


Germinate

by TheArchaeologist



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Family, Family Dynamics, Family Feels, Gen, Luther Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Luther-centric, Non-Graphic Violence, Protective Luther Hargreeves, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-13 04:41:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20168311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheArchaeologist/pseuds/TheArchaeologist
Summary: Dad’s favourite spot is out in the courtyard on the bench underneath the oak tree. He and Luther have sat out there many times, discussing everything or occasionally nothing at all.Tonight, the topic is the Academy’s latest mission, and there is blood underneath Luther’s fingernails.





	Germinate

The evening is quiet, almost gentle, with streaks of saturating orange splashing across the clouds above. The noise of the city feels muted, as if everything in the world has been put on hold, and even the cars and vehicles far beyond the Academy walls seem to have switched off for the night, leaving a strange feeling of peace to fill the air instead.

Dad sits on the bench beside Luther, holding his cane in both hands.

“Well, Number One?” He asks, and there is no need for elaboration on the subject on which he queries.

Hanging his head from the endless sky above them, Luther holds his jaw firm, his hands pressed together tightly on his lap. Behind them, the oak tree’s branches sway in the soft breeze, the timber creaking like old doors on tired hinges. Being the months in which cool winter gives way to warmer spring, blades of grass and the beginnings of flowers push through the red leaf covered earth underfoot.

“I understand that an apology will not be good enough, Sir.” Luther says, staring intently at the ground. The calm of oncoming night betrays the terror of the day, a juxtaposition stark in Luther’s mind. “I failed to…To _fulfil_ my role, and because of that Diego was hurt.”

“You let your concentration slip.” Dad comments factually, not looking at Luther. “And because of it, you were left in the precarious position of being two men down. One, because he was injured, and another, because they were looking after Number Two.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Explain to me, where do you think you went wrong today?”

Swallowing, Luther risks a glance out of the corner of his eye towards Dad. The man is not watching him, his monocle gleaming in the sunset and his white beard sprayed with the reflective colours from above. His grip on the silver handle of his cane is fierce, and his lips are pulled thin.

“I underestimated the number of people we would need to apprehend, and by letting myself get distracted, I was unable to see the bigger picture.” 

He hadn’t meant to, Luther really, _really_ didn’t want to put Diego in harms way, into a situation where he could get bruised and bloody and forced into the infirmary for several days. He had simply been preoccupied with the hostages, because they were even more panicked than usual, ignoring commands and bolting at every chance, even into open fire and certain death.

He thought Diego and Ben would be able to keep a handle on the intruders in the main hallway while he borrowed Allison to help him and Klaus get the worst of the flailing hostages under control.

He thought that Ben would be able to keep the monsters out longer, meaning he could take down four at a time and thin the herd out for Diego to pick off. 

He thought that Diego had more knives than he did, because Diego didn’t mention how many he lost while they were initially split up and surveying what they had to work with.

Luther is unused to only having four siblings to work with.

All his life, Luther has always had _five_.

As Dad finally turns his sharp gaze onto him, Luther finds himself wondering, not for the first time over the last few months, where Five is now. He wonders if he’s happy, wherever he is, if he is warm and safe and comfortable. Perhaps Five is living in luxury, and his disappearance had been planned, his own little runaway trick to escape his responsibilities and duty. 

They looked for him, in the small moments they could when sneaking out for doughnuts and sugary treats, but no leads ever turned up worth pursuing. 

Diego gave up hope ages ago, loudly declaring that Five was either kidnapped or dead, and considering his power, probably the latter. Klaus adamantly told them otherwise, but Luther had overheard the hushed whispers from the other side of Klaus’ bedroom door, when he was sober enough to fully be able to see the phantoms of the Academy, and couldn’t stop the thoughts of their brother lying to protect them from the pain swirling around his head.

Blinking down at the nails of his hands, still tinged with the slight colouring of copper, Luther cannot help but hope that Five isn’t having a good time, wherever he is. Not on a day like today.

Maybe Luther failed in this regard at some point down the line as well. Diego today, Five who knows when. Klaus is already high for the night, he can smell it on the slight wind wafting out one of the windows, and Luther knows that knocking on Ben’s door will be fruitless until the morning when they rouse for breakfast. Vanya never instigates any conversation between the two of them anymore, and no matter how hard he tried Luther cannot find anything he said that should have intimidated her in such a way to shrink under his line of sight.

Maybe this is why he clings to Allison. She’s the only sibling Luther has yet to let down.

There’s still time.

“You were unable to adapt.” Dad says, watching him closely. “You were _all_ unable to adapt. Life continues on, you cannot let the reigns of the past pull you back. They will either strangle you, or you shall break free.” Turning away again, Dad looks up to the sky. “Whatever you decide to do, step up or flounder, you will take your siblings along with you. As Number One, they look to you for guidance, even when you’re shrouded in the same dark.”

Luther’s eyes go to the clouds overhead as well, a deep purple now swirling into the mix as night starts to take its hold in their little corner of the world. Somewhere inside he can hear Mom humming, and distantly he can make out the rehearsed tune of a violin.

“I want us to move on.” Luther finds the courage to say, his thoughts drifting to the portrait above the fireplace. “It’s…Not healthy, to dwell like this.”

“No, it is not. Heed today as a warning, Number One.” Leaning heavily on his cane, Dad stands, tilting his face to meet Luther’s gaze. “Do not leave the Academy down another man. There is too much at stake, more than you can comprehend, and the fate of the world rests on how you move forward now.”

“Yes, Sir.”

As Dad makes his leave, Luther picks at the dried blood under his nails, the tango overhead giving way to a deep, space black.

**Author's Note:**

> Look, don't hate me, I can explain-
> 
> *Vanishes to the moon for four years*
> 
> [Tumblr](https://ancientstone.tumblr.com/)


End file.
